Kiss, Kiss
by heka
Summary: A series of Flippy x Flaky one-shots. All humanized, unless mentioned otherwise.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Kiss, Kiss

**Summary**: A series of Flippy x Flaky one-shots. All humanized, unless mentioned otherwise. Happy Tree Friends belongs to Mondo Media.

-/-

First: **Photobooth**

It was standing there unobtrusively tucked away at the corner of the street with the cinema (her idea), hand in hand (his condition) – a small, white-washed booth proclaiming instant photographs of unbeatable quality (suitable for passport use!) at a very reasonable price.

He was going to walk past it, focusing on getting to their cinema on time for the show – and secretly enjoying her face heating up as they walked along the street together, when he felt her hand tighten ever so slightly in his. He turned to gauge her face and, as expected, it was glowing red – matching her hair, and her eyes were refusing to meet his gaze. He smiled gently.

"You want to take some pictures?"

Instantly, her head shot up, cheeks furiously red and she nodded fervently.

"Can we?" she almost squeaked, her fingers tightening around his as she tiptoed to look searchingly into his eyes. Flippy marveled inwardly; he had never known the "Puppy Dog Eyes" maneuver to be so effective.

Hiding a grin, he checked his watch in a seemingly apprehensive manner. "I don't want us to be late – "

Flaky grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, shaking her head nervously. "Oh no, no, no, no! We won't be late! I know that you don't like it – please, just for a few minutes…?" She pleaded, biting her lower lip. He hesitated, just for that one more second.

"If we go now, we'll still be in time!" she squeaked urgently. "Besides," her voice lowered to a whisper, "I wanted to commemorate this…"

Bending down, he leaned in and put his other hand on top of hers gently. "Of course."

Her smile brightened up the whole street and she almost dragged him bodily into the booth. As they both tumbled not too gently into the tight space, his army beret was swept aside onto the floor. Apologizing furiously, she bent over to pick it up – giving him a lovely view of her long white legs, dusting it thoroughly before passing back to him.

Already squashed onto the only chair by her movement – there wasn't anywhere else to go; he took it with a grateful smile and then slyly pulled her onto his lap. She squeaked and her face grew even redder, if that was even possible. With a mischievous grin, he latched his arms around her waist and nuzzled close to her warm neck.

"Flippy! I – "

"Sssh, it's starting."

Squeaking again in surprise, she turned to face the camera and smiled, as much as she could with Flippy practically draped around her shoulders. The camera flashed once before a sharp, tinny voice counted down to the next shot. Quickly, she pushed herself off his lap and ran behind him, flashing another grin just as the second flash popped. Taken completely by surprise at her speed, Flippy was caught off guard by the pop.

"I wasn't – "

"You have to be faster, Flippy!"

They had another tiny mishap when she accidentally pushed his beret off again while changing positions before Flippy decided that he had enough. He had just enough time to push the beret onto her head – a more secure position since _she_ was the one moving around, before the camera popped again.

Caught again by surprise, Flippy blinked owlishly for a few seconds. Flaky collapsed into giggles.

"Flippy! Pay attention!" she murmured into his ear as she moved _again_ in preparation for another shot. Flippy decided that that was _it_.

When she flitted past him once more to change her pose, he grabbed her waist and pulled her down to face him – even as the increasingly annoying tinny voice counted down the seconds.

Her face was gloriously pink with exertion, a pleasant change from the usual glowing red blush of embarrassment. Seeing her panting slightly with excitement, he narrowed his eyes and grinned widely, watching as her breath hitched in surprise.

"Flippy…?" her voice quavered as she fought back a surge of fear – she had just remembered who _else_ she was currently trapped in a small crowded space with. Her arms rose automatically to push him away should he press closer.

"So now that we're all alone…" he growled, caressing her face gently.

Flaky forgot everything else when his lips met hers.

-/-

**Comments**: First HTF fanfiction – first time publishing again in 3847329842 years, first time everything whatever. Haha – comments are love! Please be gentle! Most of these might be inspired by pictures on zerochan. They are so much love!

Readers can contribute too by providing me with words! XD Thank you for reading!


	2. Dreams

**Title**: Kiss, Kiss

**Summary**: A series of Flippy x Flaky one-shots. All humanized, unless mentioned otherwise. Happy Tree Friends belongs to Mondo Media.

-/-

Second:** Dreams **

Sometimes, she has dreams.

He sees them when she shifts around in her sleep. When her eyes flit around restlessly behind closed eyelids. When she gives that little moan that pierces right through all his defenses. And when she suddenly smiles, upon touching his shirt.

They're not all bad ones though.

Usually they're of daisies and sunshine – reflecting her heart, he muses, and of things of little consequence, like possibly elephants on parades on the planet of chocolate asteroids or something.

(That one made him sit up though. No more chocolate cereals as supper snacks for her after that.)

She shares with him her dreams sometimes, childishly doodling and showing him scraps of scenes that her subconscious mind pulls together after a busy day of gathering and processing data from the world around them. He laughs genially as she walks them through with him using carefully numbered and lined drawings, and encourages her to put the particularly nice ones into stories.

One day while reading, she muses, "What do you call good dreams?"

In the middle of whittling a new trinket for her from some wood with his Bowie knife, he shrugs and replies, "Aren't they just dreams?"

Quickly, she stops what she's doing and scoots closer to him before whispering ardently, "They're _not_. Dreams are just the term! Like – like whales. You don't call a humpback whale or a blue one _just_ a whale, right?"

He blinks in surprise at the strange analogy. While his mind turns what she just said over in his head, the methodical part of his brain stores away the word "whales" to be used on said trinket later. Frowning, he replies, "Well, you're right. I don't know what good dreams are called. What do you think we should call them?"

As she turns away to puzzle out this new question, he quickly pushes the wood and knife deeper into his pocket.

"I don't know too. But we'll figure this out. Perhaps I'll dream about it tonight!" she replies confidently, before spontaneously giving him a hug.

"Thank you for helping me," she murmurs into his ear, letting his warmth soak into her body.

And he smiles at her face, full of vim and blushes – grateful that this gentle girl would share her thoughts with someone like him. That afternoon as she takes a nap on the sofa, he sits on the floor by her head, patiently completing the final touches of his new gift for her.

Touching her long red strands of hair, the vibrant colours matching the plushy cushions, he plants a gentle kiss on her locks – a wish for good dreams to come to her. Then he leaves the finished whale by her face for extra luck.

He stopped having dreams a long time ago. Too much bloodshed and too little sleep.

But when the bad ones come for her, he'll chase them away – one Bowie knife at a time.

-/-

**Comments**: Gosh, now they're just coming. Also inspired by another zerochan picture – oops. Please give me your thoughts! XD


	3. Red

**Title**: Kiss, Kiss

**Summary**: A series of Flippy x Flaky one-shots. All humanized, unless mentioned otherwise. Happy Tree Friends belongs to Mondo Media.

-/-

Third: **Red **

All his life, he's known the colour red.

Red poppies in the fields around his house where he was born. He never figured out what species they were. But they were bright, fluorescent and so vibrant that it hurt his eyes to bask in their glory. Reading _The Wizard of Oz_ gave him the childish belief that he should never fall asleep in them, for fear that he would never wake up. After the war, their significance changed and their brightness dulled somewhat… and he started naming every single one of them, after every single one of his fallen comrades.

He slept in the fields as often as he could, then.

-/-

Red on the floor of the medic's tents. Red on the battlefields where under all the different coloured skin, everyone bled the same. He learnt to hate that colour then, the deep, sanguine red which meant so _little_ to everyone when inside their bodies… and meant so _much_ when outside, especially on his team mates. It was amazing how _pervasive_ that colour could be, splashing wetly onto his clothes, his boots, his hands… his face. He even _tasted_ red sometimes.

Hot, bitter, bitter red.

-/-

Eventually he began to see red, even when no red was present. It flooded his vision, drowning his mind in a sea of crimson, shutting him out of reality. He despaired then, because whenever he surfaced, the red from his army days would return, coating his supposedly colourful world with its stench. And his hands would be full of the red, dripping slowly from his knife, his friends –

And no matter how much he washed his hands _it would never leave_.

-/-

And then, she came. She too, was red. From the crown of her head to the toes on her feet, all bright red with innocence and joy. Her hair was red, red as a robin's breast, bright like apples in autumn and glorious like the setting sun.

And like the sun, she lit up his world.

With the light came colours, the whole spectrum of them. He had never seen so many colours before. There was orange, when she gave him a sweet to suck; yellow, when she pointed fearfully (almost comically) at her greatest fear; blue, when she looked out towards the sea and encouraged him to join her; green, when she ran fingers through his hair and put on his beret; purple, when she dressed up in her favourite colour for him –

And pink, when his fingers touched hers, when his forehead joined with hers… and when their lips met – shyly, gently, like the kiss of feather on skin.

She could be red too, surprisingly, when she was _made_ of red. She grew red when she got frustrated, pulling him from his own sea of red and into hers. He plunged willingly into her redness, her hair, her eyes, her lips and her heart… And prayed that she would never leave.

All his life, he's known the colour red.

-/-

**Comments**: So what do you think? And uh, yeah. Inspired by another zerochan picture. Mustgetowninspirationsoon.

Incidentally, almost every one-shot so far has a kiss, huh? (Oh so _that's_ why I called it "Kiss, Kiss"… Silly me.)

P.S 500 words, FTW!


End file.
